What you are to me
by Sleepycreator
Summary: Set before the events of "Vous sont manquant à partir de moi: You are missing from me" was the story of Jason Miller, a misunderstood and abused teen who would unknowingly be the very thing that tore Mark Cohen and Roger Davis's lives apart. Mark/Roger.
1. Prologue

**Hey, hey, hey! how are you guys doing? anyone still out there? *cue cricket noises***

 **annnyway... it has been a crazy almost two years since ive been here, since ive even touched fanfiction, let alone rent fanfiction. Ive spent a lot of time working, making money, getting ready to go off to college, and spending time with my girlfriend. Her name is Olivia, she's the love of my life, and I hope you guys can meet her someday. However, I missed this, and I found this story floating around in my documents, so I figured it throw myself onto the horse again.**

 **Ive been gone awhile, that may be true, but my love for writing has stayed put.**

 **I apologize for my absence, and I wanna thank you guys for all youve done for me in the past. Im not gonna let you down. This story is gonna be good, real good. Im still mapping it out, but I plan to release new chapters every friday between the afternoon and evenings. I have to build myself a schedule, but im so hype to get one underway. And for those of you still wishing for it, a little guy called "all rockers go to heaven" might even get finished too ;)**

 **it's so good to be back! I missed you guys! review, just to tell me how youve been?**

 **also: some context before I begin: This story is pretty much a prequel to:** Vous sont manquant à partir de moi: You are missing from me, **and with 31 full chapters, and 52 reviews, it was my most popular work by far. I had wanted continuation on Jason's character, as he was one of my favorite villains to write, but I didn't really want to re-work the whole entire story and plot. It was good for the time, and I didnt want to overhaul all that work. So, I did the next best thing. Im giving my guy what he deserves, a backstory. I hope you all enjoy! and hopefully this will all make some sort of sense now! plus, more marker! bonus!**

 **On a final note, guess who finally is graduating high school and a certified adult? this gal! ;)**

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Mark Pov:

I sat awake in sad and stunned silence, holding the newspaper in my shaking hands. It was a chilly fall morning, the kind you'd sit awake for with someone, clad in sweaters, nursing a nice cup of coffee or tea. The birds chirped in protest of the approaching winter, and our tall loft apartment sat idle in the rush of traffic around it. My glasses slid down the bridge of my nose a bit, but I soon adjusted them, a sigh escaping my lips. In bold letters on page two, the article so small, you'd have to squint to read it, it stated: **_"IN MEMORIAM. JASON MILLER, AGE 26."_**

It had been three years since everything had gone wrong, since the worst experience of my life. Roger and I were finally married, my job was paying me well, and we seemed to have gotten the life we deserved. Still, I couldn't shake the sickness in my stomach at the sight of those words. Jason had been gone a long time, and I wondered why an article only surfaced now? I didn't have to ponder alone for much longer. The sound of the bathroom door slamming made me jump ten feet, the paper falling from my grasp.

Roger stood outside of the doorway, only a towel on his waist, and his short blond hair wet, and sticking up in all directions. I caught sight of him, a deep crimson spreading across my face. We had been together for almost six and a half years now… so why did he always manage to fluster me like this? I smiled at the sight of the silver band on his ring finger. He was mine, and I was his. Forever.

My little jumpscare didn't go unnoticed though, for his emerald eyes cast onto me with mild concern.

"Marky? You alright?" He walked over to me, offering a gentle smile. I nodded sheepishly, gazing up at him, and hoping he would just drop it. He leaned down, cupping the side of my face, and kissing me deeply. I returned the gesture, giggling when he lightly nipped my lip as he pulled away. "Doesn't seem like it…" he murmured. "Those bathroom doors… scary, huh?"

I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"You just startled me, that's all." I looked down at the paper, and went to reach for it, but not before Roger had scooped it up first. He scanned the page I had been contemplating, and his eyes narrowed once they found their target. He let out a snort of disgust.

"Good riddance."

For some reason, that stung. I glared at him a little, snatching the paper from his hands.

"Stop."

"What?" he asked eyes wide. "What's the problem?"

"Don't be disrespectful."

"Oh, my apologies to the psychopath. I'm sure they'll be missing a birthday cake next year at the halfway house."

I felt my hands begin to shake once more.

"Roger… I said stop."

He laughed a little.

"Are you actually defending the lunatic who took you from me? Who almost ruined our lives?"

"You don't get it!" I yelled loudly, tears in my eyes. I couldn't understand why I was crying. When Jason had been killed in the accident, (by his own panicked hand I should add) I had felt so much relief. The nightmare had ended, but now? It just felt like I had a bad taste in my mouth… Like I had something to be sorry for. I choked on another sob, and before I knew it, I was hunched over, and my face was buried in my hands. Roger stopped his onslaught, and looked at me in worry.

"Hey, hey… Mark… easy…" he sat beside me, pulling me into his arms, and rubbing small circles into my back. I cried into his shoulder, my chest heaving, and my eyes burning. Maybe it was because this brought back all of the bad memories of three years ago; the trauma, the fear, the sadness. Or maybe, just maybe, I was finally able to mourn the loss of someone who had meant the world to me so long ago.

Maybe I was just saying goodbye to the real Jason Miller, the man I had loved so much. The man who had become so twisted, and so damaged, he was just plain unrecognizable by the time we had met again that night in the alley. The man whom the world had taken by the ankles, chewed up, and spit out, without so much as a stroke of good luck, or peace in his direction. I knew now why I felt so guilty. Unlike me, he didn't get his happy ending. I couldn't think of anyone who had needed it more. In this moment, it was hitting me like a freight train. Every person has a name, and every name has a story.

This was his.


	2. Chapter one

**sup guys! Kris here :) chapter one, comin on up! sorry ive been slacking on updates, as always.**

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High school had to be one of the worst and best experiences of my life so far. Just kidding, it was the worst. My parents were always pressuring me to be as good Cindy, to get her grades, to have friends like she did, but I guess I missed the memo, because all throughout my years, I was in short: A fucking loser.

Roger and I barely knew each other back then. We had drifted pretty far apart since we met and were inseparable as kids, but then again, we had found each other once more. We both had changed a lot. Occasionally he would cheat off of me in math, get angry when he got the answers wrong (because he was really fucking stupid when it came to copying answers from one sheet to another, but of course to avoid getting my neck broken, I would never tell him that.) and walk out of the room in a huff, but not before slapping the back of my head with a hiss of "Thanks, queer." (Jokes on him though, because this queer ended up being his husband. Imagine my past-self knowing that!)

To say I was invisible was an understatement. I'm pretty sure if I stood still long enough in the cafeteria; someone would dump their lunch on me, and mistake me for the trashcan. Roger would stalk past of course, give a snarky comment, and be on his way, but I couldn't expect too much from him back then. From 9th grade until about 10th, I was just a chew toy for him. He'd call me names, laugh when I got upset, and then apologize when he needed a research paper written. He was supposed to graduate two years before me, but being held back twice, we were now both in the same grade.

We didn't really become friends until I finally started to realize why he was such an asshole. When he began to show up to school, covered in bruises, and with his eyes puffy from crying. When he used to punch his locker, and curse his father over and over again. One day, when I was feeling something close to pity, I asked him what was wrong. I suddenly had an armful of a crying punk rocker, his snot staining my sweater, and I remember casting my eyes up to the ceiling with something close to a smirk. From that day on id known that I was indeed stuck with Roger Davis, no matter what I did. However, judging from the butterflies I got as a result of being in such close proximity to him, I didn't think I was going to mind that much.

Well, here I go again, side tracking. This isn't a story about Roger and I, though he does consume most of my life. This is a story about someone else. Someone who had it even worse than I did. In fact: someone who had it worse than just about anybody. I'll start by telling you the tale of how he and I first met.

"Come on, Mark… just one packet of answers? Please?" Roger begged, his bright green eyes cast my way accompanying a sad pout.

I was on my way to chemistry. 10th grade was getting harder and harder with all of the college courses my mother demanded I take, and with a long time before I got to do jack shit senior year, the workload was not letting up. Roger's constant nagging wasn't helping either.

"Rog, come on… we were up the whole night studying, you mean to tell me you can't remember anything?" He shook his head sadly, and pawed at my binder. I smacked his hand away.

"I'm bad at school, you know that! Give me something, anything! I wanna graduate… I wanna go to college with you! Please?"

I stopped for a moment. Roger had been planning this grand scheme of how if he could only pass the 12th grade, all of his problems would disappear. He would be just fine, and he would even go to the exact same college as me. We would be roommates, and best buddies, and then his music career would take off, and he'd buy me a bus. (I shit you not; these are the actual words that came out of his mouth.)

I also did not have it in my heart to tell Roger that my parents were expecting Harvard, or Yale, and somehow, I didn't see a guy like him trading in his mascara and black nail polish for a business suit and tie at the ivy leagues. However, if there was one thing I was a sucker for, it was his puppy eyes. Deep down, I think he knew that too. I was just about to reach into my bag for the notes when something that felt like a speeding car slammed into me, and I flew against the lockers with a BANG.

I stumbled back, glasses askew, my vision blurring. In front of me, there was a fuzzy shape. A boy, slightly taller than I, with jet black hair, and what looked like panicked brown eyes. He seemed absolutely mortified that he had crashed into me, and he reached out, shaking me.

"Ohmygod!" He cried too quickly. "I hit you, I'm so sorry! I-I… I was- I-" he kept on with the shaking, and I whimpered, my dizziness getting worse. It suddenly stopped as Roger grabbed a tight hold of him, staring the stranger down.

"What's the big idea, pal!? You almost broke my answer key!" I rolled my eyes and growled, stung at the fact that my brain was Roger's first priority. No brain, no answers. That makes a guy feel important.

The boy let out a startled cry, and shook his head quickly.

"N-no! I'm sorry! You don't understand! I have to go, I have to-" he turned a shade of white as a group of seniors rounded the corner, smirking when they caught sight of him.

"There he is!" called the one on the left. "Come on, Jason! We gotta get you back to the funny farm!"

Jason gasped and clung to Roger in fear. Roger, looking disgusted, cast a confused gaze at me. With wide eyes, I shook my head. I had no idea what to do either.

"Aw, he found his friends!" the one in the middle called. I felt anxiety creeping up the back of my throat. This wasn't good. I wanted to run, but seeing as "Jason" or whatever he was called was clinging to Roger's chest like a barnacle, I wasn't going anywhere. Rog was the closest thing I had to a best friend, and I'd be damned if I let him get hurt alone.

"I'm not a part of this, just so you know!" Roger called out. "He's yours! Take em!" He tried to pry Jason off, who simply began to cry, and hold tighter.

"Yeah, right! We know you're protecting the little nutcase… and now YOU'RE gonna get it, too…" one of the seniors said with a growl. Roger grunted in frustration.

"Oh, no! no I am NOT!" he tugged at Jason again, and looked over at me. "Help me get this asshole off! I'm not doing this!"

I'm not sure why, but some bout of courage snaked its way up my spine. All of the times I had been crying and screaming for help as the shit was pounded out of me in the past came rushing back, and I clenched my fists. With shaking legs, I stood in front of them both protectively, and squeaked:

"Leave him a-alone…"

The first senior laughed.

"Are you kidding me?"

"You want him?" I challenged, eyes narrowing. "C-come g-get him… you gotta get through u-us…"

The group looked at each other before howling with laughter. Roger gave me the dirtiest look I've ever seen, and gazed down at the shaking Jason with anger.

"There is no US!" he hissed, and I glared at him.

"Go on, then! I'll take his beating. You only like me for test answers, anyway…" I offered my hand to Jason, who finally let go of Roger, and cowered behind me, holding his head, and shutting his eyes tight.

Roger seemed hurt by my sudden remark, and he looked at me with something strange in his eyes. He looked like he was pondering something. He lowered his head, took a deep breath, and looked back up.

"I cannot believe I'm actually about to do this… get him out of here."

I was about to ask what he was talking about, when suddenly, he ran forward, pulling one of the biggest guy's pants down, and shoving him hard. He tumbled into the others with a yelp of surprise. Rog took off running down the hall.

"Come and get me, faggots!" he screamed, and in that moment, I had witnessed what it meant when someone was indeed so mad, that steam came out of their ears. My jaw dropped as the trio took off after him, intent on murder.

He was going to get maimed no doubt, but why would he do something like that? I was so busy thinking, that Jason's muffled sobs behind me didn't reach my ears until a few minutes later.

"A-are they gone?" he whimpered, twitching a bit as he shook his head. I nodded, turning around, and looking him over. He wasn't hurt, but he looked like he was in pain. I was more worried about Roger than I had ever been in my whole life, and I kept looking back down the hallway where the chase had begun. What if he got caught already? And he was hurt… badly…

"Yeah… long gone…" I assured quietly, feeling uncomfortable when those terrified brown eyes landed on me. I rubbed the back of my neck.

"Y-you guys stood up for me…" he whispered, seeming in disbelief. His hands were still shaking terribly. Around my neck sat a warm green scarf that my mother had given me a long time ago. I reached up, tugging at it, before removing it slowly, and walking towards Jason with a smile. I gently placed it around him. He flinched violently, and I jumped at the same time.

He watched me with a scared gaze, and I held my hands up in submission. He sighed, and nodded, allowing me to wrap it around him properly. He took it in for a moment, seeming confused.

"Keep it… okay?" he reached up, running the light fabric through his fingers before shaking his head, and pushing it back at me. I huffed in mild annoyance. I just wanted to check on Roger, but I knew deep down that this was different. Important. He winced at my frustration, but I quickly calmed it. I took a hold of both his hands, and closed them over the scarf. I moved it back to him.

"I c-cant…" he whispered, and I smiled.

"Jason… its okay… I don't mind…" he stayed quiet for a long time, and I stood up. "Take care of yourself, okay? I'm Mark…" I grabbed my bag, and hurried off, determined to find Roger. Jason stayed put, still looking as dumbfounded as he had before. What I didn't realize back then was that in that moment, I was the first person to ever show a guy like him kindness.

The rest of the day, there was no sign of Roger. As the hours passed, I felt sick to my stomach. Word of what happened had spread like wildfire throughout the school though, and each rumor was more gruesome than the last. I tried to cast them out of my mind, but I didn't get it. Other than giving answers, and being something to laugh at, I was nothing. Roger had no business doing things for my sake… what was he thinking?

That night, I lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. I had saved a kid from a beating, and led my best friend to one instead. High school still sucked.


End file.
